𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

KINZOKU MIKAZUKI GROUND HER TEETH TOGETHER AS SHE LIGHTLY STRETCHED THE SKIN ON HER SIDE, exposing the burn so she could glance at it in the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, the smell of burning flesh lingering in the room long after the fact. Mikazuki took a deep breath, twisting her torso so she could get a good look at the injury, hands carefully gliding across her skin without touching the burnt patch of raised flesh.

The wound was superficial – Akari had barely grazed her, yet apparently it was still enough for her Hellfire to burn straight through her defences –, the charred flesh quickly turning a nasty shade of black mixed with golden blood.

Mikazuki held herself as still as she could, slowly padding the area around the wound, a hiss escaping her lips when her fingers brushed against it. The pain was minimal, but that wasn't what currently haunted the sorceress. Instead, the Kinzoku heiress stared at her reflection, her grey hair falling over her face like a curtain.

The woman was standing in her bedroom at the Kogane Manor, her body completely exposed to the elements as she gazed at herself in the mirror. From this angle and with the afternoon light filtering through the blinds, she could see every single scar embroidered on her body.

The sorceress held her breath, allowing her hand to roam south over her naked thigh until it reached the torn edges of the scar that wrapped around her leg. The thing had healed nicely, yet the skin around it still felt ugly and pale compared to her darker complexion. Mikazuki's finger traced the ridge of the line, caressing the scarred surface of the wound and recognizing the pattern of her tattoo under her touch.

Gods, she'd been so young when she got this. It was the first scar she got following her exile, less than two months into her banishment. She'd only been eighteen at the time – young and pregnant, running from Curses she could not see, creatures that haunted her during the night and watched her during the day. Mikazuki moved her hand, fingers gliding over her stomach and between her heavy breast until she reached her sternum.

This scar was somehow fresher, the thin vertical line that ran from under her chin and dipped low between her breasts a stark reminder of just how far she was willing to go to survive. She had others, of course. All over her body, marks that told a thousand tales but that remained silent to anyone who bore witness to them.

Yashiro didn't understand, and much like the civilized gentleman he was, he didn't ask, either. Sometimes, Mikazuki couldn't help but think as she ran her finger over the scar, she wished he did. Just once. Maybe then he'd be able understand. It was a foolish thought and the sorceress soon found herself shaking her head, hand dropping to her side as she faced away from the mirror.

Today's training session had been rough and every bone in her body ached. Akari was getting better and better at handling her fire, but most of all, she seemed to enjoy these sessions nearly as much as she did when she was called on duty. Mikazuki understood the appeal, the Manor was empty most days and there wasn't much to do around the house other than work. A majority of servants spent their time between the main house and the manor, but even then, evenings ran long and boring, especially during summertime.

Akari was her personal servant, but Mikazuki did most of the household chores herself. Her father didn't object to this – even if he did find it odd – but the sorceress guessed that sometime after her return, he became amenable to the changes she'd made during her absence. Whether Asahi liked it or not, Mikazuki had just spent a decade living on her own, separated from society and half a world away.

The habits never seemed to go away, no matter how many times Mikazuki tried to shake them off. It was a way to stay in control, no matter how little. Akari, somehow, understood. Maybe it was because they were both prisoners inside of this house, with their tiny golden cages and the pretty gilded bars from which they watched the world move.

"You've changed." A voice echoed from the doorway.

Mikazuki whirled around, yanking on the bedsheets in an attempt to cover herself as Kinzoku Hide passed the threshold of the door. The sorceress remained still; the sheets haphazardly draped over her naked form while Hide's expression softened. The woman didn't wait to be invited in, simply strolling through the bedroom until she sat down on the bed, mattress dipping under her weight.

Hide's face was hard to read, her evergreen eyes like the wild forests of La Patagonia Mikazuki had missed so much since her return. She was quiet, hands wrung tight in her lap as she eyed her daughter, a flicker of something unrecognizable in her gaze. Hide nodded towards the reflection, eyes tracing her figure through the see through clothes.

"You have the body of a woman, now. You were so little when you left."

Mikazuki's lips turned into a flat line, Hide's choice of words hitting her like a dagger through the heart. It was always leave with her, never taken away. The sorceress didn't need to be a shrink to figure out why. Hide had never loved her. Not like she loved Keisuke, at least. That day – the day she was born, a whole seventeen minutes after her twin, Hide had seen something in her eyes when she held the child in her arms.

A darkness, brewing in those golden rings around her irises. A warning. She had the exact same eyes as her father, but it wasn't the golden colour that caught Hide's eyes. It was the murderous intent behind them, like the most vicious parts of her husband had passed straight through to her. Mikazuki crossed her arms over her chest, making sure to keep the sheet firmly in place.

"I didn't leave." She said clearly as she held Hide's gaze. "And, of course I changed, that's what tends to happen when people are sent away for ten years."

Mikazuki didn't bother to hide the hatred that snuck into her words, ensuring each word would feel like a nail dragging through Hide's coffin. It was vicious, the way in which all of the hatred and all of the ire started swirling inside of her like the embers of a growing hurricane. She could feel the power at her fingertips, Everlasting growing restless under her skin. Mikazuki was quick to quench down the feeling, breathing deeply and flexing her fingers while she kept her expression unreadable.